There was a smaller girl pinned against the wall, gaged, and a huge man, at least breaching 6'5 towering over her. She was crying, and there was fresh blood splattered everywhere. Whoever this was clearly didn't know how to do his craft cleanly.

if John was to commit such a heinous crime, he'd do it under pristine conditions, no one wants to be in jail with those crimes hanging over your head. You'd be dead the moment you meet your cellmate. 

She was certainly no older than 16, and she had been bound in every way, he never left her any chance of escape. It was quite disgusting, the scene before him, maybe it was good they stumbled upon them before this poor girl got to see what she had in store for her.

John felt like he was so desensitized to this, like he'd seen it everyday of his life, which was true for apart of it. Street fights were often disgusting in this manner, and this was usually how it started. He'd been in his fair share of street fights.

"Get the fuck out of here, before I kill you too, shorty." The man hissed, whipping around to face John and Smit, but clearly addressing Smit.

"I'm not leaving her, not like you could do anything to me anyways." Smit's eerie calm complexion was almost scary, even to John. There was no sass behind his statement, he said it in a way where it could only be seen as fact. Taunting.

Just as if things hadn't gotten worse enough, another man stepped out of the shadows, this one just not as tall as the other.

"Fellas." Smit nodded towards them, his nonchalant approach making them angry. "How about you step away from the girl, and you leave without hurting yourselves. Surely I'm not worth the fight, and neither is she." he shrugged.

The taller man threw a right hook at Smit, which Smit caught, and twisted to the left.

"Still wanna dance?" He whispered, but audible enough for John to hear.

When he didn't get an answer, Smit tugged the man forward, kneeing him in the abdomen, before serving him the meanest uppercut John had ever witnessed. Three teeth flew out of his mouth, and blood came with them, but he wasn't giving up, his body shook under the force of it, and his head was forced back, likely giving him whiplash.

The man shot an angry scowl at Smit, practically snarling as he tried to free himself from Smit's death grip on his arm.

Smit seemed to have enough, "Lets dance then."

Smit ducked when the man tried a left hook, still holding his arm awkwardly twisting it so his whole body had to form with it, and confiscate, making him weaker than before, and missing a limb to fight with.

The shorter man decided to make his move, but John had stopped him quite quickly with a swift kick to the back of his knees. It seemed he also still had his instincts.

The man tried to get up, thrashing, but John had a firm boot on his neck, taunting him with the idea of snapping it right then. John was prepared to protect Smit in every way, it was bound into every fibre of his being, and he'd do anything to fulfill that almost primal instinct.

"You stupid bitch!" Screamed the man Smit was fighting. Smit had gotten him into a very awkward position, where even as much as leaning back would be detrimental.

Then, Smit gave him his final left hook, final as in he wouldn't be fighting for a very long time, if not ever after that. It hit him with a sickening crack, and he was definitely out cold with a skull fracture on that one.

Smit continued to hold his twisted arm, If Johns years in the ring served him right, there was two outcomes here. if the mans muscles in that area where strong, they'd force him to roll forward, and if they weren't..

Snap.

He'd roll back and break his elbow.

The other man was too stunned to move, staring at Smit, and his partners mangled arm.

"Do you still want to dance?" Smit raised an eyebrow, staring him down.

The man was quick to shake his head, and bugger off after John let him go, not wanting to get what he knew was coming to him too.

Then John got a glimpse on what made Smit's punches so harsh, he did have knuckle dusters, and the shiny silver sparkle of them was covered up by fresh, and dried blood.

When had he put them on? John never noticed him move at all to his pockets or anything during the whole fight. maybe thats what he wanted, for it to be inconspicuous.

Smit looked back to the unfortunate girl, she wasn't crying anymore, just wide eyed and scared as Smit pulled his butterfly knife out from his boot. She just stared as Smit walked up to her, making quick work of her binds, and setting her free once again.

She wasn't in terrible shape, but she was still beat up.

"Do you need me to call someone?" John asked tentatively, but also softly.

"I don't.. I live near here.." She gasped, as if she'd been holding her breath this whole time.

"Are you alright to walk back to your place?" Smit tilted his head, concern filling his pretty features.

what an odd time for John to view Smit that way, yet he couldn't help it, he always thought Smit was pretty, and it outweighed the current situation.

"I think.." She mumbled, and stumbled down the alleyway, not wanting any more of their attention. Strange.

Smit looked back at him and shrugged. "Puffer and Griz are probably waiting on us."


-A/N-

I told you guys he ain't weak.


imagine stealing a cargo boat.. ultimate heist.


-Fun Fact(s)-

Grizzy and Puffer will likely have a healthy relationship.

I promised Tucker and Fl0ms appearance like a long time ago, and I haven't broken my promise.

John doesn't really have good moral, growing up with messed up shitty rules.

Grizzy and Puffer won't have drama, cuz Tucker and Droid are gonna have beef, and it'd be too overwhelming.


Thief With A Bike ~ Krii7yWhere stories live. Discover now